


gold rush

by simply_kelp



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Hair Kink, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 22:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5945500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simply_kelp/pseuds/simply_kelp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyelko’s hair falls in shimmering waves of gold, more precious to Curvo than the finest alloys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gold rush

Tyelko’s hair falls in shimmering waves of gold, more precious to Curvo than the finest alloys. Tyelko is the only one of their family to have golden hair, some strange fluke he shares with the Arafinwean line. But Curvo would not let them have him.

He covets his golden-haired brother. Clings to him with a jealous, possessive sort of love that drives Curvo to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of Tyelko’s thighs, to leave dark purple bruises that stake his claim to anyone Tyelko would be fool enough to undress for.

Tyelko revels in the attention, flirts with slender, doe-eyed elf-maidens and strong-jawed elves. And he does so with a wink back at Curvo, knowing that the first moment they are alone, Curvo will pounce. So Curvo drags his nails up Tyelko’s chest, trails nips and open-mouthed kisses along Tyelko’s shoulders, buries his nose deep into Tyelko’s golden hair as he slides his cock between his brother’s thighs.

(They don’t speak of Aredhel. Curvo knows that her stubborn independence is what keeps Tyelko bound to him.)

So Curvo devotes himself to the caring of his brother’s hair. When Tyelko returns from hunting, covered in grime, hair caked with mud and riddled with tangles, Curvo undresses him and takes him by the hand. He anoints his brother’s head with oils and creams, combs out all of the tangles until it shines. Until it gleams brighter to Curvo than the silmarils, as if Laurelin’s light were captured, refracted and amplified within each strand of his brother’s hair.

He digs his fingers into Tyelko’s hair, scratches his nails against Tyelko’s scalp, pulls fistfuls of golden curls until the vibrations of Tyelko’s moans, his lips wrapped around Curvo’s cock, send shivers down his spine.

It is naked and laughing, his golden hair glowing in the lamplight as it lays splayed against the pillows, his eyes vibrant and full of life, calloused hands touching every inch of Curvo’s skin, that Curvo thinks of his brother when he finds him. But now Tyelko’s eyes are glassy, blood seeping from the wound in his gut. Curvo presses down on the wound, tries to stanch the flow of blood.

A soft moan slips past Tyelko’s lips, his eyelids flutter as he tries to focus on Curvo’s face. Curvo brushes a dull and sweat-damp lock of hair, once gold now stained red, from his brother’s brow. When darkness fills Tyelko’s eyes, Curvo takes up his sword. Dior may already be dead, but Curvo will make them pay. It will be the last thing he does.


End file.
